


Rose in Silver Snows

by PaladinAstarte



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alcohol Withdrawal, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Atlas - Freeform, Atlas Academy (RWBY), Canon-Typical Violence, Dad Qrow, Flown North, Friendship, Gen, Hummingbird - Freeform, RWBY Volume 7 re-write, This is reposted and being remastered with permissions form original author, Volume 7 (RWBY)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:22:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29715726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaladinAstarte/pseuds/PaladinAstarte
Summary: Team RWBY, Team JNR, Qrow and Oscar have all arrived safely in Atlas, met with Ironwood and are ready to start the next phase of their quest. But Ironwood is obligated to share an... uncomfortable truth with Qrow.-- Reposting and rewritten with permission--Rewriting of Rose Above the Clouds written by Aurora313
Relationships: Blake Belladonna & Ruby Rose & Weiss Schnee & Yang Xiao Long, Qrow Branwen & James Ironwood, Qrow Branwen & Ruby Rose & Yang Xiao Long, Qrow Branwen/Summer Rose, Ruby Rose & Yang Xiao Long
Comments: 25
Kudos: 36





	1. Truth, Theory and Explanation

All and all, Qrow probably considered this one of his better days. He was overflowing with pride. The Kids had come a long way from the rag-tag pack of runts blundering their way across Beacon Academy's main promenade two years ago.

Today saw a life-long goal achieved for all of them. General James Ironwood had officially issued the youths with official Huntsmen licenses. Even though measures of doubts lingered in some minds, they were far too preoccupied celebrating this personal victory right now to care. Their troubles could rest until tomorrow. Qrow smiled as he watched the kids fawn and gush over the new-style mission board before he'd decided to take his leave of them.

No doubt the teenagers would follow soon after. When all the pomp and ceremony was done, the group would probably make their way back to Atlas Academy for a well deserved night's rest. And no one would doubt that they certainly earned it after today.

Quarters had been set aside for Qrow as well. A two-room teacher's apartment that served him well enough. Containing a bed, an en suite bathroom in one room, joined by a second slightly larger room that served as a passable living area with a table mounted computer, lounge chair and kitchenette.

As much as Qrow had tried to stay clean and sober since they motely crew made their grand entrance into Atlas, the Veteran Huntsman been hiding a few of the less-than-pleasant withdrawal symptoms with fists full of aspirin, fake smiles and galleons of water. Sleeping was hard in that first week alone, and while he had been improved dramatically, Qrow was still well into the throes of sleep debt. The amount of times he'd been caught 'napping' - in reality, trying to sleep through a migraine - would've landed him in hot water if he was one of Ironwood's greenhorns. 

_Thank the gods I'm not on James's pay roll._

As if summoned by the thought of him, Ironwood emerged from a corridor Qrow had just passed on his way to bed.

"Ah, Qrow. There you are. I was wondering if we could take a moment to speak privately?" James requested formally.

_Oh crap._

Pausing his stride and lamenting the elusive comfort of sleep, Qrow turned back to the General to regard him with an eyebrow raised. "Uh, sure. What's on your mind, James?"

"Not here." Ironwood waved his hand then gestured for Qrow to follow him.

Trailing behind the General, Qrow finally got a good hard look at the man. The stresses of command had clearly taken their toll on him, and James Ironwood was looking as threadbare and worn to the bone as ever. But even through that, Qrow could see the layer of anxiety compounding his already fraught expression.

"So are you going to tell me where we're going, or should I start making bets?" Qrow offered in his usual caustic manner.

Ironwood gave a chuckle, distant and forced, "No need for that. We're headed to the Military Hospital."

Qrow's expression darkened and he rolled his eyes while muttering under his breath, "I hate hospitals..."

Their journey to the Hospital included a ten minute trip in an airship. When they had finally arrived at the entry way, they were greeted by a pair of Atlesian Military Huntsmen standing guard at the front door. Just inside was a security check-in station.

"Please present your scrolls for verification." The receptionist said dutifully, following her scrip even though one of the men before her was the Atlas Headmaster and General of the Military.

Ironwood produced his scroll and set it into a port on the raised platform by the Receptionist's computer terminal.

"James Ironwood, Captain-General of Atlas Military."

The port pulsed blue before turning a bright green, authenticating his credentials and voice print. When the General gave Qrow an expectant look and gestured to the terminal, the Huntsman followed suit by stating his name and occupation. When the computer flashed green, the receptionist pressed a button that opened the heavy security gate towards the main complex.

Like any hospital, all the typical elements were present. The clinical white walls and ceiling, the harsh smell of antiseptics, medications and sterilizing agents. But Atlas took it to a whole new extreme. The lights were particularly grating on Qrow's growing headache. His impatience and fatigue were mounting in equal measure.

"Okay, I think I've played along with this little sight-seeing trip for long enough. So spill it. What's the deal here, James? Unless you're planning on showing me where the Winter Maiden's resting, I can't think of any other reason why you'd bring me here?"

Ironwood's shoulders fractionally tensed and his posture stiffened. It seemed the entire time he was silent, he was pondering precisely what to say to Qrow about this whole affair. "There's something that you need to know. The truth is I wasn't sure how to breach the topic to you before now, and if I'm being totally honest I was waiting for you to recover - I know you've been struggling somewhat since you arrived in Atlas."

Qrow frowned ever so slightly, lips pressed in a thin line. "That obvious is it?"

"I'm an observant man. And I don't recall a single conversation we've had where you haven't taken a sip from your flask at least once. However, that being said I would like to congratulate you. I can't imagine its been easy." Ironwood glanced over his shoulder.

Qrow was silent for a long moment, shoving his hands into his pockets as they walked. "Lets just say... some things happened in recent weeks that forced me to take a good long look at myself, and I didn't like what I saw."

"Its always the way, isn't it?" Ironwood agreed somberly.

"So, since you dodged my question I'll ask it again: Why'd you bring me along for this little road trip James?" Qrow gestured to the walls around them, "Not that I don't appreciate the company, but I can imagine a more picturesque place to have a catch-up. We could've just gone for a coffee at a nice cafe or something."

Ironwood chuckled fondly this time though it quickly died. "As much as I'd like to tell you, I've come to realise that its best if I simply showed you and allowed you to make your own judgements."

Qrow scowled at the cryptic answer. He was so very _sick_ of cryptic answers. But James, blunt straightforward James, must have had a good reason for being so. And whatever his answer was, it lay deeper in this hospital. He noticed a black sign, the only irregularity of colour in this damned place, indicating the path ahead was towards the isolation ward.

"Why do I suddenly get the feeling that I'm not going to like this?" Qrow mused rhetorically as Ironwood led them to an elevator which took them three floors up.

The General guided them both down the narrow hallway lined with security personnel. At the very end of the hallway was the security station, set between two doors. The far door was basically an airlock, deadbolted shut with a gleaming black and blue number pad and ident reader. The door closest to them was a plain pale blue slide door. As Ironwood approached the desk to speak with the officer, he gestured for Qrow to enter the slide door.

"I don't know how to prepare you for this, so I think its just best if you saw for yourself."

The security guard sitting at the desk opened the door with a push of a button, Qrow quickly glanced at Ironwood before ascending the stairs within. They led up to an observation lounge. On Qrow's left side, the winders were slanted at an angle away and opaque. A row of fluorescent lights illuminated the room from above with only added to the clinical detachment permeating the halls.

"I hate hospitals..." Qrow grunted, crossing his arms while he waited.

When Ironwood finally joined him a few minutes later, he had a folded plastic evidence bag in his hand which contained something Qrow couldn't quite make out. "Eight months ago just after the official closing of Atlas and Mantle's borders, some of my men detained a woman claiming to be a Huntress who stole her way inside Mantle's borders with the intention of seeing General Platinate."

"Wait, as in your predecessor?" Qrow frowned, confused. "But she passed two years ago, didn't she? A state funeral was held, and didn't the old man give the eulogy himself?"

"And retired ten years before that. This was among the woman's personal affects when we brought her in for questioning." Ironwood handed the bag to Qrow, inside was a scroll. Black with silver edged highlights. It was an old fashioned model that went out of service about twelve years ago. While Qrow contemplated the scroll and fished it out of the bag, Ironwood had crossed the observation room and stood by a dimly lit control panel by the windows.

"Over these past eight months, we - that is, the Ace Operatives and I, came to discover that this woman was in fact a Maiden."

Qrow's head jerked up, surprise playing across his face. "A _Maiden_? As in the Winter Maiden? I thought you had her on lockdown?" 

Ironwood shook his head slowly, "You're correct, we do have the Winter Maiden under observation so we can tend to her Alzheimer's disease. My original estimation was that this Huntress was the long-lost Spring Maiden. Assuming the role after an accident befell Blossom Miller, the former Spring Maiden. But your own testimony has brought that assumption to a swift close. Given we have the Winter Maiden, the Fall Maiden is in Salem's hands and the Spring Maiden is dead by Ms Xiao Long's testimony, by process of elimination that can only mean this Huntress--"

"--Is the Summer Maiden." Qrow finished, still idly playing with the scroll in his hand. "Why now? The Summer Maiden has been missing for at least fourteen years. I used every resource I possessed and even _I_ couldn't find a whiff of her. And there's no chance that Salem would've found her, otherwise Shade would be a pile of rubble by now and the sword would've reduced half of Remnant to ash."

The General exhaled slowly, "Unfortunately, I can only offer you vague speculation and guesswork. But there's also a very real possibility that Salem did indeed have her in her possession, but wasn't aware of the import of the prisoner she held."

"You almost feel like you're about to arrive at a dramatic reveal James. I'm so very sick of the suspense, why don't you just tell me what's going on?"

Ironwood shifted uncomfortably, musing on a way to phrase his words delicately. "I think if you have a closer examination of that scroll, you'll understand my... hesitancy about revealing this to you." 

"Fine." Qrow's lips were pressed in a thin line while he waited for the thing to boot up, his eyes promptly went wide as saucers and felt a painful lurch in his stomach when the Huntress License flashed on the scroll's interface. His mouth opened in stunned disbelief and his eyes darted to Ironwood angrily for an explanation. The General returned only sympathy and silent apology.

"Given the nature of the situation and our enemy, I'm sure you can understand why we've elected to keep her in observation."

Ironwood ran two fingers down the control panel, transitioning the opaque wall into translucent glass. Qrow rushed to the window and stared down, wide eyed and speechless. He leaned closer, hands pressed to the glass on either side of his head and completely oblivious to James' presence. He stared, slack jawed as his heart leapt to his throat and his gut twisted into knots. Emotions he couldn't even begin to describe were coursing through him, his mind raced with questioned, regrets, memories and so many things he couldn't even put name to them all.

"James..."

Qrow's voice was a low rumble as he stared down at the red-head currently sifting through reports in the isolation room, an indescribable emotion painted his expression as he looked towards the General.

"Why is my dead wife in your isolation room?" He stared down again at the form of Summer Rose.

* * *

James Ironwood felt no small measure of sorrow, studying Qrow's profile. The other Huntsmen was preoccupied, staring down at what was an impossible dream until a moment ago. By all accounts, a woman the world had declared dead had just come back from the metaphorical grave, and with that came a flurry of emotions.

Ironwood truly wanted to let the moment settle. To let his friend absorb the magnitude of this truth, that his formerly MIA partner was present here and now, separated from him by a sheet of reinforced glass. But there were still plenty of things the General needed to brief him on. The situation was... _complex_ , to say the least.

"James..." Qrow's voice was seismic as he turned to Ironwood to repeat himself, his eyes glowing blood red in accordance to his heightened emotions. " _Why_ is my dead wife in your isolation room?"

The General retrieved his scroll from his pocket, synchronizing it to the holographic display integrated into the glass wall. "When we detained her close to three months ago now, this was how she appeared."

Qrow's gaze had found their way back to Summer, only reluctantly peeling away when the image projected onto the glass. The heartbreak on his face was clear. The image was a mugshot of a thoroughly war-torn Summer Rose. Her lips were cracked, bruises that hinted a broken cheekbone covered the right side of her face, and a thin cut sliced across her nose and left eyebrow - these appeared to be from the same wound. It also appeared that someone had taken a knife to her hair, hacking it off haphazardly until only an short uneven mess remained. Patchy scraps and tuffs that barely concealed her bare scalp.

Wider shots appeared. Of other wounds, injuries and unfamiliar scars that decorated her emaciated body. Additionally, there was a shot of her in the clothes she had been garbed in at the time. If they could even be called that. A nondescript black body glove, appeared to be equal parts armour and restrain. It appeared the joint areas had been torn for the purposes of free movement.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ironwood saw his counterpart's fingers curl into tight murderous fists that trembled slightly. He then glanced down at Summer Rose in the isolation room. The woman's skin only showed the faintest scars of the worst injuries now. The most superficial damage had healed completely and her hair had grown in the several months since she had arrived. Her black hair reached down to her shoulders now, long enough to be evened out and styled into something far less... _dehumanizing_. Even the natural highlights of red were growing more pronounced.

Her flesh was a healthier pallor. A healthy amount of fat and muscle filled out her face and frame compared to the hollowed pictures. Disgusting haunting images that wouldn't have looked out of place in a history of war textbook.

"She's been in your hospital - right under my nose - this entire time? And you didn't think to tell me?" Qrow's voice was low and thunderous.

"As I said before; I knew you were struggling with your own issues when you came to Atlas. I wanted to make sure you'd recovered enough to handle something like this." James said, a silent plea on his face as he met his comrade's accusations head on. "Rest assured that we've made every effort to keep her comfortable. And she has been more than eager to return to training, we've done our utmost to help return her to a combat status. We may not know where she's been, but the threat of Salem means we cannot afford the luxury of allowing skilled warriors to sit idle - security risk or no."

Qrow's fist curled in barely restrained anger. For a moment, Ironwood feared he would act on it. A tense moment passed before the Huntsman relented. " _No_... no, you made the right call."

Qrow and Ironwood both glanced down at Summer, who seemed to have abandoned the reports she was going through in frustration and made her way to the kitchenette to make herself a coffee. He heard the faintest chuckle, more of a hoarse whisper, from Qrow's throat as Summer piled ungodly amounts of sugar into the mug. It was only a brief break in his dark humour.

"Who did this?" Only an idiot would miss the murderous intent underneath his words.

"I don't know," The General took a somber tone, flicking through his scroll to display more information. This time, a medical work up. "As you can imagine, when a woman appeared at our gates claiming to be a long-dead Huntress, we had to take certain precautions. The least of which was a complete physical examination, including a DNA test and stringent psychiatric workup once she as in our custody. During the physical examination we noticed similar signs of injury all over her body."

"And?"

"According to every test we've run; blood, dental, and birth records obtained from Argentum Primis - the civilian hospital in Atlas West Quarter. This woman is indeed Summer Rose."

"That's right. She was born here, wasn't she?" Qrow glanced up at the medical reports when Ironwood paused in his explanation, more photos were displayed, cycling through various body parts with injury, a host of new scars that spoke of years of constant combat and peculiar blister-like scars that seemed to be from severe burns. "What happened to her? Where has she been all these years?"

"I don't know." Ironwood answered.

"I didn't ask if _you_ knew - I'm asking where she's been!" Qrow thrust a finger towards Summer below, rage and pain finally bursting through to the surface.

Ironwood bore the brunt of his wrath stoically. " _She_ doesn't know either."

"Excuse you?" The anger withdrew, if only a modicum.

Ironwood went on, hands folded behind his back. "I called in every medical specialist I could think of; neurologists, psychologists, psychiatrists, even Semblance Experts to try and get something of her missing memory back, to provide some answers as to where she's been these past fourteen years. Unfortunately, all those attempts so far have proven fruitless."

Qrow's eyes widened to the size of saucers. "Her memory?" His voice hitched lightly, and his hands trembled as he struggled to get his emotions in check. "How much of her memory? Does she..."

"From what I understand, she maintains perfect recollection of the events leading up to her last sanctioned mission. The dates roughly matches up to the dates she disappeared." Ironwood explained with heavy heart. "When questioned, she claims she can't recall much of anything beyond that point; all she seems to remember is dreams or visions of being repeatedly shut inside some sort of enclosed space."

"A prison cell?" Qrow offered,

James shook his head once. "No. That was dismissed completely out of hand by her. But she does recall a glass roof and some sort of tube. Which... leads me to the next topic. But before I move on, I need to ask: Did you know about this?" 

"Excuse you?" Qrow cocked an eyebrow at him,

"Summer Rose being the Summer Maiden. Did you know?" Ironwood repeated,

Qrow grit his teeth and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Her last job for Ozpin was to find the new Summer Maiden after Guinevere Borealis and her successor candidate died. She wasn't a Maiden the last time I saw her, and I haven't the slightest clue how she became one between then and now."

"And Summer Rose hasn't had any recollection of how she came into those power either. Its a knotty problem. It could very well mean she happened to be nearby when the next host passed on, or she used less than palatable means to obtain them."

"Summer wasn't - _isn't_ a glory hog. Neither did she have aspirations for that kind power," Qrow shot back defensively, "All she wanted was to keep her head down and do her job, I don't think hold 'unimaginable power' was really on the cards for her future."

"Be that as it may, its a question that we need to answer sooner or later. But we'll table that discussion for now," Ironwood sighed heavily and pressed a few keys on the window display, highlighting a medical report. "On the DNA test, we've discovered something... _concerning_. How much do you know about DNA telomeres and cell division?"

Qrow crossed his arms, frowning at the medical report, "I'm a simple man, James, and Medical Science was never my forte."

"I suppose not. Put bluntly; telomeres protect genetic information when cell division takes place, but a piece of lost each time the cell divides. Meaning as a body ages and cells divide, the telomeres grow shorter. In a way, based on the length of a cell's telomeres, you can determine that person's age."

Qrow raised a dark eyebrow, "And you're telling me this _because_?"

"In the DNA test we conducted, we discovered that her telomeres are longer than typical in a woman her chronological age. Of course, natural genetic variation in the gene pool count account for this, but this is far beyond what would be considered normal variation."

Qrow pinched the bridge of his nose with an exasperated sigh, "As much as I appreciate the science lesson, get to your point please."

"I believe that in the time she's been absent, Summer Rose has spent a significant amount of that absence in some form of cryostasis." Ironwood theorized, "The theory also corroborates the peculiar pattern of blister-like marks that match the lines of the clothing she was wearing when she arrived in Atlas. Clear and classic signs of cryo burn."

To emphasis his point, Ironwood flicked the images to the aforementioned scars that banded around Summer's wrists, ankles and neck.

"... that's Atlas technology." Qrow declared.

"It is." Ironwood said grimly.

" _Exclusively_ Atlas Technology."

"I understand how this looks."

Qrow side-eyed him, "I'm waiting for an explanation."

Ironwood sighed, letting his head drop to his chest. "As much as I wish it were otherwise, even with the most stringent security processes in place, there are still a selfish few who are willing to do anything for the right price - including selling military technology. And cryonics isn't exactly a new field. There's plenty of time for the plans for such technology to find its way onto the Black Market."

Qrow glared at him, "So you think some Black Market thug got a hold of the tech, kidnapped Summer for the Maiden powers, shoved her in a freezer and then... _what_? Blanked her memory of the entire thing and let her - let that much _power_ \- escape their clutches?"

Ironwood nodded grimly, "As much as the concept is disturbing and sickening on more levels than I care to describe, in a world like ours anything is a possibility."

Qrow's gaze lowered to the floor before looking down at his former teammate once more, "I want to talk to her... _now_."


	2. Shattered

Summer Rose returned to her reading desk with her _blasphemously_ sweet creation and took a long draft, followed by a contented sigh. The coffee break was a welcome albeit brief reprieve from the reports she’d spent her free time reading. It wasn’t her only reading in this gilded cage, but it was just about the only source of outside information. 

To her regret and great shame, none of it was good. Even the tokens of hope scattered throughout these rueful accounts were summarily crushed by the weight of catastrophe that followed in those manila folders.

Thankfully, when the real world became too gnawing on the spirit, Summer had other media to occupy her time. When she’d first awoken in this place, she’d received many visitors. By far the most frequent of them all was a young Atlesian Specialist by the name of Mary Reed. The young woman was mute as Summer discovered during her attempts to strike up a conversation, but the Huntress was fluent with Atlesian Sign Language.

And through that commonality, Summer believed she found a decent rapport with young Reed. More often than not, they conversed in sign without the need for the module on Reed’s uniform collar to articulate the words her voice could not.

In that budding friendship, Specialist Reed was also kind enough to furnish Summer with new books to read upon every visitation. Books that included all the modern classics like the Sun Throne Trilogy, The Tempest Gate or Sword of Shattered Heavens. All of them fantasy, and all lined nearly on a shelf that occupied the far wall of this isolation room. Over the course of her stay, it became less of a bog standard clinical chamber and more of an admittedly sparse studio apartment. Albeit one with surveillance cameras in every corner.

 _Ironic how Atlas is the most technologically advanced kingdom in the world, but they still seem to prefer things on old fashioned print paper._ Summer mused, running her fingers over the report and flipping the page.

All things considered, General James Ironwood had been more than accommodating with Summer’s situation. And she honestly couldn’t blame the man for the thinly veiled skepticism he’d regarded her with when she first returned eight months ago. Even now, being locked up somewhere deep in the bowels of a military hospital built into the very rock of Atlas itself, Summer was a security risk.

She was a random element that had been captured by an unknown and undoubtedly hostile force that could likely have anti-establishment leaning or ties. The fact that Summer remembered very little of her previous captivity didn’t help matters. Though there were pieces of memory she neglected to mention - pieces she wanted to stay buried forever.

Two bastions of humanity’s sanctuary, Beacon Academy and Haven Academy, had been attacked. The former left in ruins - a skeleton of itself, and the latter crippled with the loss of its Headmaster. To add salt to those gaping wounds, Beacon fell to ruin and calamity during eve of the Vytal Festival of all times!

In a celebration designed to honour each other, build camaraderie between nations, a terrorist cell defamed the school through staging a murder and promptly brought it to its knees. And the Kingdom still hadn’t recovered. 

In that one single night, those loathsome bastards had sown the seeds of enmity and distrust among the last sanctuaries of humanity, single-handedly destroying a fragile peace eight decades in the making.

Summer didn’t know who caused it, but a deep loathing took root in the depths of her soul at their audacity. No. Scratch that. She knew perfectly well who caused it. Not the obedient little pawns who carried out the plan, but it's grand architect. It was her.

Beyond doubt, the Grimm Queen’s fingerprints lingered all over it like a pox. After all, it was in accordance with her goals. She wished to divide humanity, and what better time to do so when the whole world was watching.

_Do you admire my handiwork, child?_

A scream ripped from Summer’s throat in fright. A sudden surge of adrenaline coursed through her veins, and her heart spiked as primal fear pierced through her like an icicle. Her hands trembled as her flight-or-fight response kicked in. The Grimm-bound Witch’s voice rang like a chime in her head. 

In panic Summer slammed the folder closed with a loud thud and kicked the table away, backing off as foul black ooze bubbled under the cover. It popped and oozed, spreading out like a weed while tendrils of the tar substance evaporated into a pitch vapour. Summer backed away further, heart hammering in her chest and beads of perspiration dotting her brow. Desperately, she willed for the power within her - the light of her eyes - to come forth and vanquish this monster from sight. But alas, nothing came.

The spectre took shape into the visage of the corrupt witch. Salem’s ever-present black and red eyes pinned Summer in place.

She gulp hard, trying to muster the strength she once had. No matter how hard Summer tried, she couldn’t pry her gaze off the Grimm Queen. “Go away, void damn you. Just leave me alone!” 

_You know exactly what to do to put a stop to this pain, Summer Rose._ The spectre of the evil woman hovered towards her, somehow rising above her.

Summer mustered her nerve and stood her ground before she would literally have her back to the wall. The ghost simply moved towards her, death-white fingers reached down to caress her cheek. Summer tried to swat them away but the image was no more tangible than a cloud.

“N-no. I’ll fight you. I’ll use every power, every weapon, every bullet I have down to my own eye teeth to end you. With every last breath…” Summer’s trembling voice returned a false confidence.

 _My dear Summer Rose, have you forgotten so readily? You already have. You already tried your hardest. You fought with all the powers you possessed and more. And now? You’re a shell of your former self. Alive by my grace alone. A broken weapon, a light extinguished. But I have need of you._ Salem’s visage knelt down before her, her alien expression morphing into something almost human.

 _You know what it is I need, dear girl. You are the only one with the power to give it to me. Simply obey and this can all be over. You will be at peace, at long last._ Salem cooed in a motherly tone, a mocking reminder of the same way Summer once did to her toddler daughter and niece.

Summer’s heart thundered like a hammering drum, tears of defiance welling up in her ears as the little horrors she remembered of her captivity came to the forefront of her mind. In a single shake of her head, Summer declared her defiance.

The Salem thing did not move, save for the faux smile dropping into an expression of ruthless neutrality.

Tendrils of thick viscous ichor darted at her from the abandoned table. Three-fingered claws with needle sharp nails tore at her arms, her legs, her face, her throat. Those nails digging into her flesh as the grip around her throat tightened like a vice. 

“I said LEAVE ME ALONE!” Her roars of defiance stirred the power within her, silver-white fire burst from her eyes as the Maiden’s elemental magic erupted, Salem’s false image and the Grimm were engulfed in a maelstrom of chaos. 

* * *

One second, everything was fine. Well, as fine at it could be when one found out their previously killed-in-action wife was very much alive.

The next second, all hell broke loose.

The first shockwave happened so fast that neither man had a chance to react. The reinforced armour glass that made up the observation wall was cracked to the point of shattering.

Klaxions blared but Qrow could only distantly hear them, his ears rang and his vision swam with pain. The fluorescent white lights above him exploded and bright red emergency lights flashed in turn, then shortly after, they too were destroyed by a surge of raging electrical power. The second shockwave came only three seconds after. Qrow had barely recovered from the first, hands clapped over his ears from the sonic boom. Had it not been for the thick layer of protected glass, he was certain his eardrums would’ve ruptured and bled.

By some miracle, Ironwood was less affected and recovered enough to act fist.

Qrow felt an iron grip on his shoulder yank him back, and his vision cleared in time to see Ironwood thrust his right hand out before them in a protective measure. Metal prongs extended from his cybernetic forearm, tearing his sleeve to shreds as the telltale cyan gleam of hard light dust came to the fore. A shield large enough to protect both of them was deployed just in time. 

The glass shattered with the second sonic boom, shooting out razor projectiles. Many embedded themselves into the walls and floors surrounding the two men. The ballistics moved at such speed, they would readily kill both Huntsmen as surely as any bullet or blade on the battlefield were it not for Ironwood’s hard light Shield. 

Shockwave after shockwave of electrical power and wind current battered the halls of the isolation room. Papers, books, and other effects were caught up in a whirlwind. Licks of wind and sound tearing them apart piece by piece like thousands of tiny hands. Sheer wind pressure warped and deformed the chamber walls, quickly pounding the rectangular room into a sphere.

Stray electrical charges short out and Qrow registered Ironwood gasp in pain as a bolt struck the outer edge of his shield.

“We have to go! Now!” Ironwood barked the order, already dragging Qrow to his feet with his flesh hand to get them both to safety. The hard light Shield retracted, but his robotic limb was caught in a spastic motion. The electrical discharge was still interfering with his control interface.

“The hell I will!” Qrow barked back, yanking himself out of Ironwood’s grip and rushing towards the hemisphere of arcane energies. He jumped inside without hesitation.

“Qrow, wait! She’ll kill you!” Whatever other protests the General was going to give died against the cacophony. 

Summer hovered in the middle of the vortex, the epicentre of the chaos. Magic burning in her eyes and curled in on herself like a feral animal ready to strike at any threat. The state of her broke his heart. Steeling his nerves, Qrow pushed through the last invisible barricade and reached out. At the last second, he hesitated. In this moment, she seemed so paradoxically fragile like she was made of spun glass, and that any outside action would shatter whatever zen-like state she was in. Yet she also seemed possessed by a force of nature. And if he were to make a wrong move, that force of nature would unleash all its fury onto him.

Regardless of outcome, it was a gamble he had to take. Disturbing the balance between rage and serenity would likely get them all killed, but something had to be done to break the stalemate and stop this madness.

Pushing down the last of his reservations, he reached up to take her for arm. The next move was so fast, so damned near imperceptible, Qrow barely had time to flinch. His hand was batted away, and as fast as thought, Summer had raised a scythe in her other hand. One made from the elemental magic, looking as though a thunderstorm had been encased by ice, and the blade swung at his throat. An action so swift it was instinctive.

But at the last fraction of a heartbeat, it stopped just shy of cutting flesh. In that dread moment, something like recognition flashed across those crazed silver eyes. Words formed on her lips, a name, his name. And then -

Her body jerked back at an impact then collapsed to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut. Without a will to direct it, the miniature tempest that destroyed the isolation room and adjoining chamber vanished as quickly as it began. Ignorant of everything else save Summer's wellbeing, Qrow rushed to kneel by her side and searched for the cause of the sudden fall. On the front of her shirt, just above her breast, was a trio of small darts. Tranquiliser darts.

Awkwardly, Qrow pulled the unconscious woman into his lap and glanced at the direction of the shot. The metal bulkhead that served as the only entrance was warped as the rest of the chamber, and had to be pried apart by inhuman strength. James Ironwood held a strange plastic pistol in his grip as he approached the pair, wearing a look of utter defeat.

"I'm sorry." He said in a quiet voice, "I-I never expected... _this_ to happen. She'd-" James cut himself off, unable to find the words to offer his old friend.

Qrow turned back to look down at the face of his long-lost wife, limp in his arms and looking so serene compared to the berserker he saw not a moment ago. What words could he have? What word could be offered in a time like this? 

Wordlessly, Qrow gathered Summer up and embraced her gently as his eyes surveyed the damage to the chamber. Ironwood had already gone back to his men and began barking orders, containment procedures, repair crew and other items Qrow didn't much care about out.

All Qrow had for the moment was a hopeless little whisper, "Just what the hell did you get yourself into, Shortstack..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This plays out a bit differently than the previous version as you can imagine. Especially since Summer being the Summer Maiden is actually a confirmed fact of the story. So my goal with this change (again, with OG author's blessing) was two fold: 
> 
> Firstly: I wanted to establish just how _dangerous_ these powers were. Especially in the hands of someone thoroughly and utterly unstable as Summer is thanks to her decade and a bit of captivity. To show those scars still affect her.  
> Secondly: To show how woefully underprepared and inadequate modern technology is in containing something as ephemeral and divinely powerful as magic. And frankly, show that the only reason why Ironwood really has restrictions on Summer's movement at all is because she allows it.
> 
> I've also decided to add little utility things to the plot. Giving Ironwood's cybernetics more utility. In this case, a hard light kite-shield/buckler built into his arm.
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed the changes.


	3. Sedated

Ironwood wore a forlorn mask, watching the Doctor and Nurse tended to Summer Rose. 

At their instruction, Qrow had lifted her onto a gurney and then was promptly shoved aside. The two men and a contingent of security guards walked after the train while they situated Summer Rose in a new private room. It was less secure than the isolation ward, but given the ruined state of the place, it was unavoidable.

Qrow’s bark of protest summarily ignored as the Doctors hyper-focused on their task. The nurse had produced a syringe of some clear liquid and injected it into Summer’s forearm while the Doctor set up an IV bag. It was a distressingly familiar sight for the General and one he wished his friend wouldn't have had to witness today.

After being all but removed from his wife's side, Qrow had slunk away exiting the room and walking a ways down the corridor. Ironwood watched him slump against the wall with his face buried in his hand. 

James composed himself and closed the gap between them.

"She's had these attacks before." Ironwood explained with a heavy heart. "Many times before I'm sorry to say. Though, this is the fiercest one I’ve seen. Sadly, these are all classic signs of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. It's clear that, remembered or not, whatever Summer Rose had to endure has left its mark."

"It's all my fault. I should've been on that mission instead, she should've stayed home. There must have been signs somewhere… damn it all to hell, did I miss them? Was I just not looking hard enough... ? And how the hell did she end up a _Maiden_ of all things? She couldn't have been before she left, she would've told me..." Qrow muttered under his breath shaking his head as despair undoubtedly took root in his mind.

Ironwood recognized the pattern of behaviour in many of his own troops and officers. Many of them wandering and stating what they could have done - should have done better after a horrendous defeat or a pyrrhic victory. 

Not even the General was immune to that kind of self-flagellation. Private concerns often have haunted his own mind, but he kept those in lock-down to not affect his troops' morale. He had to be the rock, the figurehead and leader everyone needed to rally behind. 

Ironwood shifted uncomfortably after he realised he let his thoughts wander too far. Perhaps that he should have left Qrow to his own private thoughts. And he would, but they still had to discuss the situation. Not only as a fellow conspirator in Ozpin's inner circle, but as Summer Rose's husband.

Ironwood tried to interject some reassurance. "The news isn't all grim, pardon the pun. In the months she's been in our care, she's made remarkable strides in her recovery. Perhaps nowhere near as fast as any of us would like but as the old saying goes; progress not perfection"

"But she’s still suffering badly enough that you need to  _ shoot _ her with tranq rounds?" Qrow said with a note of accusation.

Ironwood's face became downcast and his head lowered, looking precisely as remorseful as he felt at the situation. "I regret that it has become the necessity, but please understand that we're doing everything in our power to ease her suffering and guide her on the path to recovery. She’s already made significant progress in her physical rehabilitation."

"You make her sound like an invalid." Qrow scoffed bitterly.

"I shouldn't have to tell you, of all people, that Post-Traumatic Stress is a crippling sickness Qrow. Treatable, manageable with medication and therapy, even bearable after a time, but never cured." Ironwood took on a harsh tone, but relented. He exhaled and tried to continue with a calm measured voice. "Now that you're here, I'm sure she'll sleep soundly knowing you're safe… as safe as we can be in our line of work."

"She didn't even know I was  _ alive _ ? What the  _ fuck  _ is wrong with you - keeping that from her?!" Qrow barked, standing up straight and aghast.

Ironwood raised his hands placatingly. "I promise you; once her identity was confirmed in the DNA tests, I gave my personal assurance that you were still alive." 

Ironwood glanced over his shoulder towards the open door where Summer lay. "Of course she didn't have a reason to trust me on that matter. But when your letter arrived some time ago regarding the Haven attack, I gave it to her as proof. She was understandably relieved to hear of your survival."

"Understandably." Qrow echoed, rubbing his eyes. He drew in a steadying breath to force himself to be calm. "... I uh, I'm sorry I took that tone. Just... a lot to take in. I don't suppose there's any chance I'll be able to speak with her today. We've got... a lot of things to talk about."

"Yes…" Ironwood sighed heavily, feeling a weight on his shoulders. "She hadn't had any significant issues in the last couple of days, I thought now might've been a good time for the both of you to see each other. And I've never been more sorry to be mistaken."

Qrow shrugged in resignation, "Just bad luck, I guess. I'm just happy she's alive."

Ironwood didn't reply. Instead, his mind was focused on the tactical import of this new. It was hard news to hear. Shocking even. And he had to make allowances for that. He couldn't have one of the best fighters in Atlas distracted by personal drama. Not when the communications tower needed to be completed. 

"Given the delicacy of this situation, I can understand if you choose to take time away from assisting in our supply runs for now."

"Much as I appreciate the offer, I'd rather keep myself busy if its all the same to you James." Qrow replied, crossing his arms and peering down at the corridor. "Besides, you said it yourself you need all the fighters you have for this operation. Can't have me bow out and let the kids take up the slack. And if I suddenly change routine, they'll get nervous and ask questions that I'm not willing to answer right now. I just need some time to think this over, and nothing clears my head better than killing Grimm."

"I understand if you don't want this to get out." Ironwood continued sympathetically, "The current circumstances and illnesses aside, Summer Rose is alive. That mere knowledge alone would draw enemies and old grievances straight to us like a magnet. Brothers know we've already got enough problems on our hands. That being said, may I suggest letting Miss Rose know about this? I think she'd like to know her mother is still-"

Qrow raised a hand to halt him, his expression and tone were firm. "That situation's complicated. And no offense to you James, I don't particularly want to get into the minutiae with you. A man's family life is his own business."

Ironwood nodded once to give his understanding. "Fair enough. If that's how you want to proceed, then I'll leave it to you. Its a personal matter after all, and I've no right to pry. In the mean time, I'll ensure that you're permitted access to her room - and the isolation ward once it's been restored and she's moved back. You'll be able to visit Summer whenever you'd like."

Ironwood's scroll chimed persistently, breaking the tension of the moment. With some reluctance, he plucked it from his breast pocket and examined the message. Council droning, protests and more administrative work than he'd like were all vying for his attention. 

Ironwood shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Qrow, I'd hate to leave you alone especially at a time like this, but I need to get back to the Academy."

Qrow waved him off, "Nah, I get it. Duty calls and all that, right?"

"Right." Ironwood clapped a hand on Qrow's shoulder, "If you ever need to discuss anything, to talk or even just to vent, you know where my office is."

"Thanks James." Qrow nodded his thanks and Ironwood returned a faint smile of his own before answering an incoming hail on his scroll.

Qrow watched him leave, his mind clouded by a hurricane of regret and heart troubled by more emotions than he'd care to realise. He'd seen her, held her, carried her in his arms. But he still couldn't believe Summer was alive. Broken, yes, but alive. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep steadying breath, pushing himself to move back towards her room. He arrived just in time to meet the doctor exiting the room.

The old man looked around and his brows knitted together in a frown. "Where's the General?"

"Gone. Duty calls and all that."

"And you are?" The Doctor raised an eyebrow.

"Family." Qrow replied then gestured into the room, past the doctor where he could see the prone form of Summer Rose. "What's her condition?"

"Stable for now. We've administered something to help her sleep, and we've contacted our specialists to perform a psychological assessment when she awakens. Hopefully, this drama won't have set her recovery back too significantly." The Doctor explained with his gruff tone.

"Can I talk to her?" Qrow already moved to the room without waiting for an answer but the Doctor raised his hand to bar his path.

"That's not advisable."

"Noted. Can I talk to her?" He repeated.

"Sir, respectfully-"

"Look pal,  _ respectfully _ I'm getting into that room - one way or another. And I don't much care if its by going around you or through you." Qrow declared, crossing his arms.

The Doctor glared at him darkly. Security guards around Qrow tensed ever so slightly. Fingers twitching towards weapons in anticipation of a fight none wanted to take part in.

The Doctor scoffed then moved aside to allow the Huntsman entry. "She is currently sedated. I will allow you to sit with her for a time. But keep your business brief. The patient is still prone to volatile tendencies and even with our ministrations, she's shown a remarkable resistance to sedation. If she lashes out, she may very well injury you."

"I'll take the risk."

Qrow glared daggers at him on the way past, not liking that tone one bit. He came up to the side of Summer's bed with his heart thundering in his chest from nerves. She was sleeping already from the looks of things, her chest rising and lowering in time with her soft breathing. A far cry from the hysterical woman he'd seen only minutes before. Qrow reached down and brushed stray hairs from her face, his thumb wiping away lingering tears from her puffy cheeks. 

Summer suddenly gasped, a sharp intake of air and her eyes fluttered open. They were unfocused. Glazed over by the sedatives and she was definitely fighting to stay conscious.

She blinked slowly, her bleary silver eyes trying to focus on him and narrowed. He held his breath, waiting for the familiar light of recognition. Her voice was a ghostly faint whisper.

"You're... here?"

Qrow chuckled, "Yeah I'm right here, bright eyes."

Tears gathered at the corner of her eyes and trickled down her cheeks as she chuckled, a hollow broken sound that broke his heart. 

"I can't believe it..." She half-choked out.

"Neither can I." His spare hand reached for hers and gripped tight. "You had a fright, Shortstack. Do you need anything?"

"M'sleepy... fighting it." She replied sluggishly. Her eyes slid closed but she forced them open again, as if to re-emphasis her point.

"Will you be here when I wake up?" Her voice was tiny, afraid. As if the image before her was yet another trick of her damaged mind.

Qrow offered only a sad smile in return, fishing out something from his pocket. "I promise I'll come back the first chance I can."

He wrapped the black cord around her hand, letting the crooked silver cross rest in her palm. "I'll see you soon, alright? We've got a lot to talk about. But just sleep for now, okay?"

As if she'd been waiting for his permission all along, Summer closed her eyes and drifted into drug-induced slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much change to this chapter. Just streamlined the dialogue and changed locations to reflect the new story beat.


	4. Aftermath

The first impression of Mantle Prime was of a beaten and rundown skeleton of a place. The seeds of greatness were planted in its foundations long ago but time, greed and Atlesian pilfering had withered away what potential once existed here. What could’ve become a great city to rival its sister state was little more than a cluster of loosely affiliated ghettos and tired mining families struggling to make end’s meet. And sadly, that impression hadn’t changed in the couple days since Team RWBY and their cohort arrived in the Argus airship.

After the impromptu ceremony at Amity, General Ironwood gave the newly minted Huntsmen and Huntresses liberty to enjoy the rest of their evening as they wished. So while Jaune and Ren were doing their best to corral a hyperactive Nora into the airship to Atlas, Team RW-BY lingered for a little while longer before ultimately deciding to split up. 

Ruby and Yang chose to remain in the City, having acquired a simple extermination bounty from the mission board app. On the other hand, Weiss and Blake chose to call it a day. Half out of fatigue, half for peace of mind.

Despite being disavowed, Weiss was still recognizably a Schnee with their trademark white hair and semblance. All factors that caused some undue grief when they first arrived on their hijacked ship. Out of courtesy for her teammates, Weiss chose to return to the Academy to avoid further confrontation. 

As for Blake? Blake wanted to avoid the city, wanted to avoid being seen by old faces. 

Adam Taurus may have been killed in Argus, and his blind spiteful zealotry may have seen the majority of his supporters abandoning him, Atlas and Mantle both still had their fair share of sympathizers. Those Faunas who believed violence was the best way to solve their enmity towards mankind. Between lingering resentment of her abandoning their cause, being the Daughter of Mengerie’s Chieftain and leader of the new equality movement, there would certainly be more than a few Faunas who’d want a piece of her.

Despite all of that ugliness, Ruby couldn’t help the giddiness and excitement. 

“I can’t believe we’re actually Huntresses now. Official. Signed permit and all.” Ruby held her scroll in her hands, silver eyes scanning over the words stamped above the print of Atlas’s national symbol. 

It was weird not seeing Vale’s proud crest like on Dad or Uncle Qrow's permits, but she couldn’t really complain in the end. This was what she had her heart set on since she was a little girl. And she was thrilled to have it. Especially so early given the majority of her class would still have at least two years to go getting theirs. Her initial high spirits had dulled somewhat when the initial excitement passed. In the grand scheme of things, despite the fact seven people had achieved a life's goal today, this digital imprint seemed so insignificant. 

The wool had been pulled from their eyes, and the world's true scale had been exposed. And Weiss had the right of it, after all they've done and survived - this little certificate had become so trivial.

“Huntress Ruby Rose. I think it's got a nice ring to it, don’t ya think?” 

Sensing her sister's melancholic mood, Yang hooked an arm around Ruby’s neck and pulled her in for a half hug.

Thank goodness it was her flesh arm, not that clunky bit of metal. While impressive, Yang didn’t know her own strength with that thing. 

"I don't know, Huntress Yang Xiao Long. What do you think?" Ruby countered, giggling as the sisters took their sweet time meandering around the night city. Neither were particularly willing to admit they'd gotten rather frightfully lost on their journey.

"I think it’s a sound I can certainly get used to!" Yang declared with no small amount of self-satisfaction. "We did it, we're Huntresses."

"Yeah, but we've still got a long road ahead of us." Ruby sighed, suddenly downtrodden.

"We do, but we've got all day tomorrow to worry about that. Let’s just try to relax and have fun the rest of the night, okay? No worrying about crazy witches or world-ending threats. Just the two of us sisters for a long overdue hang out and having a blast for the rest of the night." Yang encouraged her gently, playing up her own happy-go-lucky attitude.

Ruby made a noise half-way between a giggle and a snort. "Not much of a night left, Yang."

"Oh you know what I mean." Yang blew a raspberry.

As much as the sisters tried to maintain their levity at their achievement, the ever increasing weight of their mission pressed upon them more and more. There was only so much that one could do to distract from that ever looming guillotine.

“I’m still not too sure about keeping things from Ironwood, Ruby.” Yang ventured after five minutes of silence, her jovial demeanor was gone now. “It feels like -- no, scratch that. We _are_ basically taking advantage of the guy. After everything he’s given us since we arrived. Hell, even before that. Keeping something this big under wraps feels… selfish, ungrateful and a little hypocritical if I'm completely honest.”

Yang brushed her right arm, feeling the grooves of metal where flesh used to be. Were it not for the General, she wouldn't have this arm, and she doubted she'd been able to fling herself back into the fray so readily.

Ruby closed her eyes and her shoulders slumped. “Look around us, Yang. Look at what's being done to Mantle. I’m just not sure how well he’d react to everything on top of this. To Ozpin and Salem, the relics and everything in between. Look at Qrow! Look at what he did when he learned the truth about Ozpin - Ozma’s war with Salem.”

“I’m sure Oscar’s cheekbone hasn’t forgotten. And I'm pretty sure Qrow's liver hasn't either.” Yang muttered bitterly. A private resentment lingered in the back of her mind over that whole affair at Brunswick. 

“And with all the pressure he’s under, as a General and with all the problems in Mantle right now, don’t you think that telling Ironwood our enemy can’t be destroyed would be enough to… tip him over the edge?” Ruby asked.

Yang crossed her arms, scowling. “I’m not going to pretend he hasn't got himself a raw deal right now, but if he keeps going down a path that… we don’t even know will work - that probably _won’t_ work because he thinks Salem can actually die - then that’s Brothers-only-know-how much time and energy he’s wasted. And when he finds out we knew all along, what’s gonna stop him from turning on _us_ the same way?” 

Ruby didn’t have an answer. Her lips pressed together in a thin line. It was precisely for the reasons Yang mentioned that Ruby chose to conceal the truth from Ironwood. At the time, it seemed like a good idea. If only not to spoil the spirit of reunion between old comrades, and not heap more burden onto a man already shouldering the weight of the world. And while Ruby stood by her decision to make sure Ironwood wasn’t trying to pull the same tactics on her friends as Ozpin did, she couldn’t deny her older sister’s points either.

The longer they prolong telling the truth, the more time and resources are wasted on an ultimately pointless endeavor.

It was a complicated problem, and no matter what path Ruby took forward, the solution would not be easy. For now, their primary focus had to be restoring communications. The rest...well, they'd burn that bridge when they came to it.

“I don’t know, Yang. I really don’t… I’m just trying to do what I think is right.” Ruby sighed.

If the past was any indication, who knew how Ironwood or the rest of the world would react. 

A stray thought crossed her mind. That this was a little like how Ozpin felt after all these years - all those lifetimes hiding this secret from the world. 

Speakers and holographic screens were still piping out the same canned messages about compliance with the Atlas Military. They were on rotation every hour and just as Ironwood's face appeared on the holographic screen it fizzled out to static. replaced with the image of an ancient scarred woman of a severe aspect. 

If the girls had to guess, those parallels scars raked across her face came from being on the wrong side of a Beowulf's claws. Her grey hair was tied in a simple tight bun without a hair out of place and her faded purple eyes were narrowed and severe. She wore a dull forest green dress uniform with brown and red highlights. Dozens of medals on her breast were pinned to her breast, lines of honors from a lifetime of service. Gold ranking pins on her lapels marked her station. The red LIVE in the corner showed this was being broadcast right now, not some pre-recorded clichés.

"Who's that?" Yang asked,

Ruby shook her head, "I don't know."

The woman spoke in a deep voice that carried the weight of her authority.

"Attention: This is Lord Admiral Iris Throne. Effective Immediately: All Atlesian personnel are hereby ordered to pursue handover actions to Mantle Naval officers then return to your rally points and depart Mantle Territory immediately. I repeat: All Atlas Military personnel are hereby ordered to withdraw to their rally points and depart Mantle immediately. Any resistance will _not_ be tolerated and met with the appropriate force. Any official protests are to be submitted to the office of the Fleet Master. That is all."

The transmission shut down, Ruby and Yang quickly moved aside as officers wearing khaki combat Admirals marched past in lock step. Their armour was a burnished black and each carried long assault rifles over their shoulders on slings.

"This looks bad." Ruby watched the platoon disappear around the corner only for another platoon of Mantle Soldiers to follow shortly after.

"C'mon. I don't think we should stick around." Yang took Ruby by the hand and pulled her away. "I get the feeling that Mantle's a bigger powder keg than we thought."

* * *

Summer's eyes fluttered open, overcome by a grogginess lingering from the sedative used to knock her out. They closed again in frustration with a drawn out sigh.

If Summer was a betting woman, and she very much was, she'd guess that she'd been shot with tranq darts. A sluggish hand came up to rub the bruise-like ache on her chest. 

This only meant one thing: Another episode. A pretty damn rough one too. She'd double down on that bet and guess the darts meant she lost control of the big guns in that little spat. 

Prying her eyes open again, a monumental effort in its own right, she traced the ceiling for familiar details and found none. She was in a different room, which either meant she hurt herself or her little spat destroyed the isolation room. She made a sluggish assessment of her limbs, moving each one as much as she could through the malaise, in a testing manner. She felt no pain. Just the typical slow numb responses from drug-addled sleep.

These episodes were beyond maddening at this point. And while the Doctor's ministrations had allowed her to progress through her rehabilitation, even allowing her to begin training once again, Summer was harshly reminded that she was still a ticking magical time bomb.

Even as she tried her best to catch up with the events of the world, sometimes just thinking of Sa - Just thinking of the _Grimm Queen_ was enough to drive Summer to hysteria.

In that maddened state, she almost imagined Qrow reaching out to her before her, trying to coax her out of hysteria. It shouldn't have been a surprise; he was her husband, her life partner both on and off the battlefield. Father of her daughter. And it certainly wasn't the first time she'd seen him in those episodes. And it was often the Grimm Queen's pleasure to steal the faces of those her victims loved. To use those images to torment and torture her with false hopes, helplessness and the most bitter of condemnation. Pre-empting whatever words would come, Summer had summoned a mimicry of one of her signature scythes and aimed for the apparition's throat. Curiously, it did not vanish and the world went black shortly after that. She thought she saw the apparition again when the doctors had administered sedatives to keep her unconscious. It promised to return when she woke up.

Summer woke up and no one was there. Her mind promised her something that was yet another lie. After fourteen years, there's no way the fates would just give her a break.

Anger surged through her veins and she clutched her hands into tight fists of frustration. Summer's features creased into a frown. Wait - what was in her hand?

Summer felt something coiled around it and cold metal on her palm. It wasn't a restraint. She'd known that unfortunate pleasure too intimately to mistake it for anything else. But it was a curiosity. Fighting through the lingering fuzziness from her misfortunate slumber, she sluggishly lifted the object up to her face for inspection then gasped in stunned recognition.

Summer stared wide-eyed at the cross dangling over her palm, glimmering in the light. She choked out a tiny chuckle, her lips twitching up into a disbelieving smile as she forced herself to sit up and stare down at the silver jewelry. He _was_ here. She hadn't imagined things. The relief gave away to shame and her fingers curled around the cross, her lips pressed in a thin line. She suddenly hated the fact. She hated how weak she was in front of him. Certainly, it wasn't any kind of reunion that she wanted with him.

Tears welled in her eyes at the realization that she very nearly killed the man she loved. Her fingers curled around the pendant and she pressed her fist to her lips. 

"Why did you have to see me like that…?" She whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks.

Summer wanted to curse and spew hatred at what happened. At her own loss of control. And if she was any judge Qrow would likely blame himself for the poor timing. And that'd likely make him want to stay away from her out of fear of causing more attacks.

"Void help me. How do I walk back from that?" She asked the pendant as if it held answered, "I nearly... I nearly took his head. How...?"

The words came tumbling out as she curled in on herself, the room filled with tiny sobs of sorrow and regret.

* * *

Qrow Branwen felt as though he'd aged decades in the last couple hours. At this late hour, he was the only soul sitting in the Academy's cafeteria and sat on a pew in the farthest corner of the room. Elbows leaning on the table with his head resting against his clasped hands. A mug of coffee sat before him, though it had long since gone cold. It seemed that whichever arrogant son of a bitch ran this world seemed fit to give him another swift kick in the gut. The second biggest 'fact' of his adult life had been exposed. And that was the 'truth' of his wife's death.

But as it turned out, Summer Rose was alive. More than alive, she was the Summer Maiden, for Brothers' sake. And if he hadn't sworn off alcohol, he'd probably be downing half a damn tavern by now. But the thought of having to endure the sleepless nights, the endlessly churning stomach and his nieces' ire reminded him of the cost of diving down that rabbit hole again. But it'd taste a lie if he didn't acknowledge this truth hurt like a bitch. 

And it was going to hurt even more when this all came to life. By the Brothers, how was he going to explain this whole scenario to the children. He'd long since accepted the fact that he'd take the whole nasty truth of their entire family to the grave. Now? Now the situation just got a lot more complicated.

"Uncle Qrow?" Ruby's voice cut through his thoughts like Harbinger through Grimm hide and Qrow jumped, stunned that he hadn't detected anyone else entering the room.

He turned, his red gaze meeting that of his nieces. Ruby was standing in the entry way, back lit by the corridor with Yang at her side.

"You okay?" Yang asked, crossing her arms.

Qrow regained some of his composure as he glanced between them, seemingly relieved it was only the two of them. Despite that, he still hesitated in his answer. "Yeah - I'm okay."

"You sure?" Yang asked, she walked around the table giving a critical eye to the contents of the mug. Probably wondering if he'd fallen back into old habits when their backs were turned.

"You just looked a little lost, or worried I guess?" Ruby asked, she rested a hand on his shoulder before taking a seat beside him. Yang took a seat across from them and leaned on the table.

Great. Looks like they wanted to have this discussion right now. Yes, the fates were truly working against Qrow today, and he sure as hell wasn't really in the mood to talk. But he wasn't going to snap at his own family to leave him alone either.

"Lost and worried... I'll buy those." He answered, bringing the cold coffee to his lips and taking a draft. It was foul, but he barely even flinched.

"Does this have something to do with why General Ironwood wanted to talk to you?" Yang asked, cutting to the heart of the matter. Qrow raised an eyebrow at her, his niece was a lot more perceptive than people gave her credit for. "I saw you leaving with him. It looked like you had a pretty heavy discussion ahead of you."

"It was an _enlightening_ one. I'll give you that, Firecracker." Grimly, Qrow nodded, letting his hands fall on the table, palms facing down. He watched his reflection in the cold coffee.

"You know you can talk to us, right?" Ruby reassured him with a gentle smile that was also a touch sad.

Qrow made no response, his lips pressed in a thin line as he scrutinized his own reflection. A long moment of silence dragged on while the teenagers watched their uncle intently. His eyes were peering down at the table as if peering through it.

"About fifteen years ago, the Summer Maiden disappeared, or rather she was killed in a skirmish against the Grimm and her successor fell off our radar. Over the last fifteen years, quite a few of Ozpin's best agents - myself included - spent god knows how long trying to find the new Maiden in between our other duties. About eight, close on nine months ago now, Ironwood's men detained a woman approaching Atlas boarders before the shutdown. A huntress that'd been missing for a decently long time herself." Qrow explained somberly, his voice slow and measured. "James wanted to let me know that the Summer Maiden was here in Atlas. That she was in his care and wanted to offer me a chance to help her."

"That's good, right?" Ruby asked innocently, "You said the Summer Maiden was missing for that time, and its good that Cinder didn't get her hands on that power."

"I don't deny that. Its a relief to know that the Summer Maiden's secure. As you said, Pipsqueak, Salem hasn't got her power and that means the sword under Shade is safe for the moment." Qrow agreed,

"Then, why would Ironwood want your help with something like that?" Yang raised a skeptical eyebrow, "I mean, you said the Summer Maiden was in care, right? What reason would Ironwood have to for you to get involved? We just got here."

"James wasn't just giving me a heads up about the Maiden. He was giving me a heads up about the Huntress in question."

"Right, you said she was missing. Does she have any relationship to you?" Ruby asked,

Yang practically groaned and Qrow couldn't help but laugh at it. "Dear gods, please tell me we don't have _another_ crazy aunt to worry about?"

"The long and the short of it is about that Huntress," Qrow hesitated, drew in a breath and sighed, "She's my wife."

A long silence dragged on. Yang's jaw hit the floor while Ruby stared, wide-eyed in stunned disbelief at their uncle. Qrow glanced at the two of them in turn before looking back down at his coffee.

"Wait... what?!" Yang couldn't believe her ears. Their Uncle, the womanizing, playboy roguish adventurer... was married this whole time?! To who?! Who could've possibly made enough of an impression to get Qrow of all people settle down and tie the knot? When did this happen? And why in the hell weren't they invited to the festivities?

"You're married?!" Ruby all by screamed in shock, eyes wide. Qrow shushed her, even putting a finger on his lips for emphasis like when they were both young children. Ruby's voice lowered to an astonished whisper. "Why didn't you tell us?!"

Qrow punched the bridge of his nose with a hefty sigh, "Because until this afternoon, I thought she was dead. And the fact she turned up as the Summer Maiden was a pretty damn big shocker."

"So... we have an aunt that you never told us about?" Yang said, her anger bubbling up. More lies. More lies and secrets and she was so thoroughly sick of the damned secrets! It was enough that she was feeling the touch of her semblance tainting her eyes blood red. "Why didn't you tell us? We had more family out there we didn't know about?"

"I thought she was dead, Yang. Dead and gone. Never coming back to me. She disappeared a long long time ago, back when you two were children. So tell me, what would've been the point of telling you you had a dead aunt?" Qrow demanded, leaning back. He wasn't angry at her outburst, just tired and resigned.

Yang crossed her arms, silently conceding the point.

"But, if she's back then... that's a good thing." Ruby chimed, trying to inject some of her typical cheer to lighten the mood of the conversation, she smiled hesitantly at her Uncle. "Right?"

Qrow looked at her, his red eyes showing a flurry of emotions in a split second that neither sister could actually describe them all, but the guilt was the most obvious one to see. "Yeah, it is. But... its complicated. Right now she's sequestered up in a mental ward; she's been missing for over a decade, and in that time she's been through gods only know what kind of hell. That kind of experience leaves a mark. And with the Maiden's power, that is a recipe of all sorts of nastiness when her PTSD gets the better of her. Like when I saw her today."

With steady words, Qrow recounted the berserk maiden magic that destroyed Summer's room and nearly slashed open his throat. Ruby's hands went to her mouth at the description, "My gosh..."

Their uncle shrugged expression distant and melancholic, leaning on his raised hand and idly playing with the cold coffee mug, "Can't really blame her; what she's suffered."

"So... what are you going to do?" Yang asked cautiously.

Qrow threw his spare hand up. "What else? Help her heal. She's my wife and I'd be a piss poor husband if I didn't do everything I could to support her."

Another silence dragged on, Ruby and Yang shifting uncomfortably in the silence before their Uncle finally broke it.

"You two go to bed. Atlas marches to a different beat than Beacon and the time tables aren't anywhere near as merciful." Qrow warned them playfully, his smile disguising the pain of a splitting headache and raw heartache.

"Wait - hey, that's not fair! You can't drop a bombshell like this on us and then tell us to rack off like its all hunky-dory!" Yang protested, shooting to her feet. "How can we sleep after hearing something like that?"

"Typically you get in a bed and close your eyes." Qrow retorted with a shrug, "Listen to me. Its a delicate situation right now, and when I saw her... I honestly doubt she even realized I was there and not some hallucination. And until I've figured out how to sort _that_ mess out, I really don't want this getting around. So, I'm trusting you two to keep your mouths shut for the time being, alright?"

"Gez..." Yang grumbled, "Can you at least tell us her name? I mean, it'd be nice to -"

"Maybe some other time." Qrow brushed off quickly. A little too quickly, he cursed himself for brushing it off too quickly, and it made his nieces suspicious.

As he'd always taught them, nothing drew attention like evasive action. Doubtlessly, they'd try to pry more into this matter. Judging by their expressions, they were planning on doing exactly that.

Yang's lips pressed in a thin line as her brows furrowed in annoyance at his cagey answer.

"Okay. That's alright. Its personal, I get that." Ruby reassured him gently, a hand on his shoulder. She smiled encouragingly. "You don't have to tell us if you don't want to. But, if you need help - we're happy to, okay?"

"Thanks, kiddo." Qrow returned with an appreciative look before nodding towards the door, "Now get to bed. Atlas ain't lax like Beacon."

"Fine. We'll go. But you better get some sleep too. You ain't as young as you used to be, old man." Yang teased, poking her tongue out. "You want to look at least half-way presentable for that blushin' bride of yours, right?"

"Cute. Get outta here." Qrow replied frankly, throwing his thumb over his shoulder.

Yang and Ruby departed the table, and Qrow was beyond relieved for their obedience. But blowing them off would likely cause him further trouble down the line. He'd have to figure out how best to proceed by then.

"Good night Uncle Qrow!" Ruby waved from the doorway with a grin, her grin faded slightly into something more somber. "Hey Qrow?"

"Yeah?"

"When your wife starts to feel better, do you think it'd be okay if we got the chance to meet her?" Ruby asked innocently. "I mean, training with a Maiden would be one thing, especially if Salem has more like Cinder in her ranks, But... when you two were together she made you happy, right? I'd like to thank her for that."

"Of course. I promise." Qrow smiled, but even from here the sisters could see the bitterness hidden behind his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, added a scene to introduce the Mantle/Atlas conflict a bit more as well as give a preview to Lord Admiral Thorne. And I've updated the dialogue to properly reflect what's going on.


	5. Key to Despair

Cinder stared out at the wall-spanning glass panes overlooking the City of Atlas. Air-bound transports and other cargo vehicles scurried back and forth between the city's disjointed blocks like worker ants. She was disgusted to her core by this place. These so-called 'elites' who, by some foolish stroke of luck, were born into the upper echelons of wealth and power. They sat in their oh-so-grandiose perch in the sky, looking down upon the rest of the world while they selfishly hoarded their riches to maintain the presumption of status.

Oh, how it would be a wonder to watch their world crash and burn. Once Cinder located the Winter Maiden Ironwood locked away in this wretched hive of platinum and dust, she would take the relic from its vault and savour watching the 'mighty' city crumble towards Remnant.

Already the cracks were forming in the foundation, and judging from the Navy's movements, the Kingdom was already split down the middle. All that remained was to find the final spark to ignite the flame.

Such a perfect fate for the conceited; to be torn from their heavenly thrones and cast down. And with two relics in her possession and Altas in ruins, Cinder could return to Salem's good graces after the travesty that was Haven Academy.

Just thinking of that upstart bandit whore made her blood boil, how easily she was bested by lowborn scum like that Raven Branwen chafed at her pride. She had heard so many stories of Raven's cunning and skill, she thought she'd accounted for all the possible scenarios. Looking back, the truth was so blatant but Cinder's own hungry left her blind to the glaringly obvious.

More than once, Cinder had entertained the notion that perhaps Raven made her own schemes to thwart hers. She pondered that perhaps the Branwen twins weren't on as hostile terms as they liked the world to believe, and it was all an act to corner and kill Cinder herself. The more she thought about it, the more it made sense.

Raven Branwen was the kind of woman to play both sides and emerge unscathed. As for the relic? Well, since the identity of the Spring Maiden was now known, it would have been prudent to relocate it to a vault where the key maiden was still an unknown factor. And taking the relic to Atlas to seal away meant there was an entire military they had to fight through to get to it.

Cunning indeed. Cinder grit her teeth in frustration. It was all becoming clear, just how much she'd been made a fool of.

The door swished open and Cinder glimpsed the vestige of a woman wearing the garments of an Atlas Military Specialist. Her eyes were pale green, and her brown hair was tied back in a regulation bun.

The Fall Maiden's lip curled up, "You're back late. Did you have fun with your little dress-up game today?"

The Specialist rolled her eyes in silent annoyance as she sauntered up to the single table in the room, setting down the scroll she had fished from her pocket. A holographic screen projected from the device which displayed a speaker icon. Cinder had come to know this appearance as Mary Reed, one of many undertaken by Neo Politan in their time together in Atlas. The guise fell away in a dazzlingly display of pink sparks rippling over her frame, revealing the true form of Neo Politan.

 **THE GENERAL HAS SOMEONE IN CUSTODY IN MAIN HOSPITAL WING. HEAVY SECURITY. COULDN'T GET NEAR HER WITHOUT AN ACCESS CODE.** The words were read out by a stilted artificial voice completely devoid of emotion or flow.

Cinder's mind rushed with thoughts of this being the Winter Maiden and it ignited her hungry, her heart fluttered and beat just a little faster in anticipation. But she quelled it. As much as it would be a delight, to find the Winter Maiden so casually and quickly was too good to be true. Ironwood wouldn't keep such a vital asset so openly displayed. No, her second thoughts were that this was a new factor. A different person entirely. And that realization halted her mad desire to act in haste.

"The General is struck with fear and paranoia, so much so he doesn't even trust his Mantle counterparts. I doubt that this is the woman I'm looking for." Cinder dismissed with a wave of the hand, thoroughly disappointed by the notion. No matter how she wished it were so.

Neo's lips pressed in a thin line and she typed her response quickly into her scroll, which echoed her words in a clinical flat tone. **SHE'S IMPORTANT ENOUGH TO SOMEONE. ONE OF THE HUNTSMEN FROM RUBY'S GROUP, THE MAN WITH THE SCYTHE, WAS PERSONALLY ESCORTED TO SEE HER BY IRONWOOD.**

Cinder blinked and looked back towards her co-conspirator. "Qrow and Ironwood are both Ozpin's puppets, I'm not surprised they'd lean on each other if something important enough caught their attention. But... what about this woman could possibly _draw_ their attention, beyond her perhaps being a new Maiden?" The thought was enticing, but Cinder curbed her enthusiasm on that matter. She had to focus on one task as a time.

**I DON'T KNOW. BUT THE GUARDS ARE ORDERED TO REMAIN SILENT AND NOT DISCLOSE HER IDENTITY TO ANYONE OUTSIDE A SELECT GROUP. I ONLY FOUND HER BY SHEER CHANCE.**

Cinder frowned and pondered this, intrigued.

"Tell me, do you know what this woman looks like?" Cinder demanded, hand on her hip. "Why is General Ironwood so keen on keeping her a secret? Has he grown complicit in his little Citadel?"

Neo Politian rolled her eyes and cast her semblance, her Overactive Imagination rippled over her in pink shards of light. It morphed her appearance into a woman somewhere between her late twenties to early thirties wearing Atlas Academy issue Pajamas. She was five feet five tall, shoulder length hair with tints of red and silver eyes.

"WHAT?! She **_escaped_**?!" Cinder's maiden powers flared to life in her outrage, orange flame blazing from her single remaining eye. "How could she have escaped?! What did that stupid man think he was doing?!"

Neo crossed her arms and cocked an eyebrow, a silent inquiry of who her image was and why she would cause such a reaction.

Cinder's teeth ground together. The image that Neo had taken was one she'd seen many times before, one she had last scene frozen stiff in a cryonic tube while that idiotic man Watts was in between his experiments. Just thinking over her sent Cinder spiraling into her own anger. It was _her_. The mother of that little _bitch_ who ruined her! Who took her arm and her eye! Summer Rose.

Hunched over slightly, Cinder's furious heavy breathing continued for a long moment until finally, she sucked in a heavy breath. Cinder closed her eye, straightened her posture and drew in deep steadying breaths to recompose herself. She had to remember where she was, what she was doing. Cinder now had two options set before her. First, if she was extraordinarily lucky, she may be able to collect three prizes for Salem instead of two. The two relics and the long lost toy Silver-Eyed plaything Salem had invested so much time into breaking. Or she could simply cut her losses and be content with the two relics.

The Fall Maiden contemplated these two options before a slow smile turned the corner of her lips. "Tell me, Neo," Her tone returned to its usual silky smooth manner, "How would you like the chance to inflict even more pain and despair on our mutual Little Red?"

Neo cocked her head to one side, lips turned downward in a displeased line while still wearing the appearance of Summer Rose. "I know you and Roman were close. He was almost like brother or even a parent to you, wasn't he?"

Neo nodded slowly, frowning.

"Well then, I'd say its only fair to even the scales, wouldn't you? That woman," Cinder pointed to Neo, still disguised in her illusion, "Is named Summer Rose. She's Ruby's mother. She is the key to causing Ruby the ultimate despair that she's forced you to endure. And when Little Red's in that deep dark pit, when ending her would be mercy - don't you think that would be the most perfect moment for revenge?"

Cinder closed the gap between them with a self-satisfied smirk on her face, Neo looked up at her as the illusion fell away once more.

Her lips split in a wide grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing to change here.


	6. Rising Tensions

“Your appeals has been heard and categorically rejected, Specialist Bree.” Admiral Thorne’s tone brooked no argument as she looked up at the Atlas Operative acting as Ironwood’s representative in this affair.

The Admiral’s office was bare of decoration compared to General Ironwood’s office. It lacked the same high tech features one would find typically in an Atlesian administrator’s workspace. The only personal effects that marked this as anything other than a bog-standard administrators’ unit were three picture frames on the corner of the desk facing towards the Admiral, a glass frame on the wall containing a lifetime of combat honours, and a Newton Cradle on one of the shelves. The gentle clicking of its swinging metal spheres sounded in time with the analogue clock above the front door.

Harriet Bree stood before Thorne’s desk, hands clasped behind her back at attention. Though at the conversation dragged on, it was clear her tempers were beginning to fray.

“Admiral, we desperately need those resources for our ongoing operations.” The Atlas Specialist stood at attention, her irritation was beginning to gnaw at her military discipline.

"And we are in desperate need of those resources to _survive_ , Specialist."

Behind the Admiral’s chair were her two advisors. The civilian adjutant was Secretary Celeste Teale attached to the First Minister’s Office, and Commodore Augusten Everest, the Admiral’s official aide in the Fleet Master’s office.

According to intelligence reports, Secretary Teale was a chameleon faunas, though that trait was only visible through the ever-shifting colour of her hair. To anyone else, they would simply dismiss the daily shifting colours to a quirk of her otherwise quiet personality. Right now, her hair was as teal as her namesake.

By contrast, Commodore Everest was a giant bear of a man with suntanned skin, flint black eyes and intricate interweaving tattoos over his bald head. Tribal markings passed down from a clan of nomads who eked out a living on the continental shelf long before immigrants from Mistral's northern territories traversed the ocean divide two centuries ago.

“I am not referring to the raw materials and supplies your state is  _ pilfering  _ from mine, Bree. I am referring to the matter of your soldiers being removed from our streets.” The Admiral went on, the accusation hard. “Mantle and its surrounding regions are the jurisdiction of the her Navy and the Office of the Lord Admiral. General Ironwood has overstepped his bounds, and I will not see another Atlas Airman in Mantle with the approval of the First Minister or Lord-Admiral--”

“You mean without  _ your  _ approval, Admiral.” Bree cut in sarcastically.

Thorne raised a thin grey eyebrow at the impertinent woman and leaned back in her chair, her expression now completely blank. Allowing a moment’s silence where Bree finally seemed to understand her serious breach in protocol, the Admiral opened her mouth to speak. Slowly and clearly. 

“The Captain-General may allow a certain level of latitude in the conduct of his operatives, but you would do well to watch your tone with me, Specialist.” She warned coolly,

“No one in your ranks nor mine are above reproach. If this lax attitude continues with me, you will find your career coming to a swift and completely unspectacular end in one of my brigs. This, I can assure you.”

Harriet swallowed, “Yes, ma’am. I apologise, ma’am.”

Thorne crossed her arms, her expression shifting ever so slightly into a frown. “Now onto the matter of resources you are so keen to discuss: I am not in the habit of repeating myself to subordinate ranks, nor do I intend to shift my position. As you’ve neglected to inform me precisely what those operations entail, despite my  _ numerous  _ inquiries, I have no way of knowing if those ongoing operations will be more of a detriment to Mantle Prime than they already are, or less.” Thorne replied, the scowl on her face pulling at the ancient scars.

“Now if you were to inform me of the purpose of your vanity project, then I may be convinced of its merit and we can arrange suitable accommodations to benefit all of our Kingdom. Until then, my answer is a firm ‘no’. You will not have the support of Mantle going forward.” 

From here, Thorne could see the veins on Bree’s face and neck pulse in frustration, and it was a battle to keep her tone metered and level. “I’m afraid that only General Ironwood can reveal that information. It's classified.”

Thorne scoffed, “I possess the highest level clearances possible, military and civilian, and I am  _ ordering _ you to tell me what you know.”

“With respect ma’am,” Amazing how Harriet turned that phrase to mean ‘kiss my ass’, “I’m not under your jurisdiction nor chain of command. You don’t have the authority to order me to do anything.” 

“Then I suggest you inform the good General to come down here and explain the situation to me personally. Until such time I am sufficiently convinced that Ironwood’s actions are not causing undo harm to the citizens of my Kingdom, he will not receive a shred of support from me. _Dismissed_.”

Specialist Bree shot off a salute, turned on her heel and marched out the office door. Commodore Everest muttered a irritated string of words in native Solitai while shaking his head.

Despite herself, Thorne allowed a smirk. "No, Augusten, I can't let you do that. Even if it would be funny to watch."

"Your pardon, Admiral. I hadn't realised I'd said that out loud." The Commodore apologised in his terse accented manner. "But onto the matter at hand, how are we to deal with the issue of Ironwood? Its become increasingly clear he's sabotaging our efforts. While he's building his pet monument, our people are freezing to death in their homes."

Secretary Teale spoke up next. “He won’t be very cooperative after giving one of his personal hit squad a scolding.”

Thorne threw up a dismissive hand, "Ironwood and his damnedable Logic Engine can kiss my sword hilt. But in the end, there isn't much more he can do beyond send representatives to badger us. Not without risking starting a conflict we can ill afford, both as a Kingdom and as a species. The Doom day clock is far too close to striking midnight as it is. However, the good General needs to be reminded that Mantle Prime is not under his jurisdiction. Its governing body are the offices of the First Minister and the Lord Admiral of the Navy. And there's little he can do to force my hand without consulting the governing council first." 

Thorne turned to her civilian advisor. "Speaking of, Secretary: the Ministers of Agriculture and Trade have requested a meeting regarding matters of agriculture, food and commercial imports from our Argusian neighbours. Arrange a meeting with them both so we can discuss the situation further. We need to reach a decision by the end of the week, and send along my apologies for failing to contact them sooner."

“I’ll see to it, ma’am. I’m sure the Ministers will understand the situation.” Secretary Teale nodded at once and made to leave. 

As an afterthought, Thorne called out to her. “Oh, and Celeste? I want you to reach out to our errant band of Happy Huntresses. Inform them that I have a job. A mission briefing will come in the following days - and emphasise that I will allow them a choice reward for services rendered.” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

The door closed with a sound thud and the Admiral turned to Everest. “Contact the Deputy-Commissioner of the Mantle Police Force. From what our Corsairs have told us, we’ve found another body done in by our mysterious faunas murderer, and I want the latest intel we have. I also want the latest on the stolen Argusian dropship which landed inside our city. Pilots, crew, whatever. There’s a very real possibility that this group of fugitives are really a group of terrorists. Perhaps even the same group responsible for Beacon's collapse and Haven's destruction. The only way that same fate will play out here is over my rotting corpse. And the fact that Ironwood's fleet didn't blow the commandeered airship out of the sky the minute it was spotted baffles me to no end."

Everest withdrew his scroll from his pocket and opened it out into a tablet configuration. “I will contact Commissioner Crimson at once. However, I do have some preliminary information to eliminate a few suspects in our string of murders. According to our operative embedded in the White Fang, they claim no responsibility in the deaths. In fact, an inventory of known members and associates eliminates the possibility entirely. There are no scorpion faunas within their ranks.”

"The keyword there being 'known'." Thorne paused and glanced at one of her photo frames, lips pressed in a thin line as she gazed upon the image of herself with a young man, a winged faunas with windswept bronze hair. "I know where our operative presently sits in the hierarchy, but its entirely possible he not been told everything." 

"That's true, Admiral. We can't eliminate the possibility of unknown elements. And it'd be far too dangerous for our operative to poke and prod without drawing suspicion to himself." Everest continued,

"Yes. Thank you. The last thing I want is that boy's death on my conscience. Tell me of the other matter: the dropship. Have we managed to identify any of the passengers, crew or otherwise? And have these fugitives been spotted since?" Thorne inquired and the Commodore nodded.

"Yes ma'am, our CCTV monitoring system managed to get a decent picture of all of the members responsible before they were apprehended by Ironwood's Ace Ops. Ten individuals. An adult male, an elderly female, and eight teenagers to young adults of varying description." Everest went on, "We've managed to use facial recognition to identity the intruders."

“Again Ironwood oversteps his bounds. Those fugitives should be rotting in my brig." The Admiral growled in frustration, opening her computer terminal with a thirty digit password. "Show me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, I count native Solitas language as either swedish or dannish.
> 
> And Iris Thorne is stubborn. Who knew.


	7. Reunion

Summer Rose had her eyes closed and legs crossed while she sat on the bed. Her breathing set to a slow steady rhythm while she focused on clearing her mind of all distractions. Meditation wasn't one of her typical hobbies. 

As a child Summer loathed sitting still longer than ten seconds - by their nature speedsters were flighty creatures - but the techniques still had a variety of uses in her Huntress life. Under her father's ironically patient tutelage, Summer studied and experimented with these techniques, exploring their potential as avenues to master her unique gifts more effectively. Just as her father had in his prime… before he met his own fate.

It was a strenuous exercise to not let her mind stray too far from her objective. Every time she'd let her control slip, Summer's thoughts would inevitably wander back to her... captivity. Just one misplaced step would be enough to open those haunting floodgates, to send her spiraling into that deep dark abyss. 

Those memories would drown her. 

It'd end in another hysterical fit that would have her strapped to a medical bed and pumped full of more chemicals than she'd care to know. And the last thing she wanted was to get shot again. Her hand strayed to her breast where the trio of darts hit, the bruise still hurt.

Doctor Galatea, a psychologist on Ironwood’s payroll, had deemed the episode a freak occurrence and reassured Summer that this wouldn’t set her recovery back too badly. But Summer couldn’t help dismissing it as a pretty white lie.

Summer vehemently wished she didn’t have to experience it again. She wished she could tear these memories from her mind, burn everything associated with them and hurl them into the uncaring void where they belonged. She'd had enough of that unpleasantness to last a lifetime. But Summer also knew on a fundamental level that if she didn't face the demons gnawing at every unguarded thought, then she'd have no chance of walking out of this place in anything other than a straight jacket.

The truth of the matter was; she did remember.

If General Palatinate were still alive and the one dealing with her now, Summer would have been more forthcoming with information. 

Patricia Palatinate was a grandmother to her in absence of any real grandparents. In fact it was no exaggeration to say that Summer had known the woman for over half her life. Her own mother had served as the late General's personal aide for much of Summer's childhood and early teen years. Strictly speaking, conversing with the old woman was almost as common if not just as common as speaking with her own mother.

On the other hand, General James Ironwood was almost utterly unknown to her. Summer had only heard the name in passing but nothing more substantial in that. And while he was the leader of the military and the Academy Headmaster - far too much power for any one person to wield in Summer's humble opinion - he had to earn her trust before she shared anything. 

Yes, the man had ordered his doctors to treat her injuries and attend to her needs, and he had allowed her to begin rehabilitation as soon as the option was available. But those token gestures didn’t hide the inescapable truth that Ironwood had still locked her in this gilded cage. 

Not to mention that the man looked so high strung that hearing the truth of her experience would leave her in a deranged state and likely send Ironwood careening over the edge.

Summer's face scrunched in concentration, for a fraction of a second she let her concentration slip. But that slip was all that was needed.

_ Let go...  _ The whisper was seductive, inviting. Disgustingly intimate as if whispered by a lover.

Summer felt revulsion to her very core at the sound. A woman's voice - her voice - whispered poison honey in her ear. She grit her teeth and screwed her eyes tightly closed, mustering whatever scrap of willpower she could to fight off this invasion of her fragile peace.

"No." She growled, her voice strained with effort. "I deny you."

Summer could almost imagine Salem standing before her, a sickly pale hand cradling her cheek like a comforting mother.  _ It is all over. I am in your mind. Every defense, every resistance, every futile defiance you've ever made has crumbled to dust at my feet. _

Summer's grip on her knees tightened on her knees to the point of pain. "Not. Everything." She snarled, beads of perspiration dotting her brow. "I deny you, and I will claw back everything you took from me until my dying breath."

_ You cannot turn back the hands of time, Summer Rose.  _ Salem sounded more like a lightly condescending mother explaining a simple concept than the taunting tyrannical monster she was.  _ And above all, that is what I took from you. But be honest with me, is that not your own fault? Had you not defied me, you would have been reunited with your family long ago. Simply give me what I want... you know her location. Tell me. And this suffering need continue any longer. _

The words struck a chord. In that moment, Summer was almost utterly possessed by her emotions as a roar scream of impotent rage ripped from her throat. The fragile peace she'd managed to achieve in her meditation shattered like glass all around her and the Maiden’s magic reacted to her touch.

The rage made its way to the real world. In her anger, Summer kicked her side table. The table frame warped, sent clattering several metres away; reports, a book and a half-filled mug of coffee spilt across the floor. Then promptly frozen as a thick layer of rime coated the entire chamber.

Summer’s chest heaved, silver-white flame burned from her eyes as she glared daggers at the far wall. Anger curled her fingers into claws and her heart thundered, hammering in a mix of rage and anxiety. Seconds dragged on into minutes and Summer struggled to get herself back under control. 

Taking a long measured breath, her left hand clenched firmly around the silver cross pendant around her neck. Both as an invocation of strength, and a reminder of the promise she had made to herself. Taking another breath, she raised her right hand and called upon the maiden magics once more. The room temperature rose exponentially, and the rime coating evaporated into steam, then disappeared through the air filtration system.

_ Get a grip.  _ She scolded herself sternly.  _ People need you. They need you to get healthy again, so you can- _

So she can  _ what _ ? 

Fight in a hopeless war of attrition? One where they're the losing side? The Grimm were endless, their Queen was physically immortal, and no matter how many immoral scumbag co-conspirators the Huntsmen and Huntresses slew, more would inevitably take their place. They were cockroaches, all of them.

Summer was torn. She dearly wished Qrow could be here; to help her get through this travesty of a situation. At the same time, she wanted him to stay as far away as possible. Before she left she was strong, she was fierce, a Huntress with few peers. She wanted that image to be what he remembered about her, not this weak pathetic thing she'd become.

She sighed heavily, leaning against her bed and holding the cross tightly in her palm, her desire for companionship outweighing her personal pride. Her mind went back to that drugged encounter, where Qrow stayed with her until she passed out from sedative.

"I wish you were here right now. I just... need someone to talk to me; to tell me something good happening in this world."

Her mind strayed to their daughter. Ruby, how was she doing? Gods, she must have been a teenager by now, if not a young adult. And what about Yang and Tai? Summer regretted not being there for either girl as they were growing up. And Raven? Well, Raven was a whole other story. 

Before Summer could dwell further on all the things she had missed in her daughter and niece's lives, an all-too-familiar metallic clanking sound filled the silence.. The sound of a magnetic lock disengaging. And her anger spiked once again, albeit for a completely different reason.

"Void take me..." She growled, shaking her head as her visitor entered.

They must have seen her outburst on the multitude of surveillance cameras and rushed to administer medical aid or some such nonsense. Instead of allowing the visitor to ask the first question, Summer preempted them.

"Look; simply because I'm expressing my frustrations and anger openly doesn't mean you have to scurry off to get a void-blighted syringe." 

Summer threw her arms up in frustration, chest heaving as she did her best to pull her breathing under her control. Hands planted firmly on her hips and pointedly looking away from her guest.

"As you can clearly see, the ice has already thawed and I'm perfectly in control of my faculties, thank you oh so very much. And I'm allowed to express my frustrations as I deem necessary. I'll clean this up in my own time. So why don't you just leave me in peace?" Summer huffed.

She heard the door close behind her, but no footfalls to mark the person leaving. Summer suppressed a groan and rolled her eyes. Fantastic, it probably meant her visitor was opting to stay in case of another violent explosion of anger. Or it was Doctor Galatea about to launch into another 'session'. She could hear the person coming closer slowly, step by step. Summer frowned, she didn't sense any hostile intend, but -

"Personally, I'd rather just offer you a hug and let you vent. I figure the smart lien's on you preferring it that way too." The familiar raspy voice snatched her attention completely, Summer spun on her heel, eyes wide at her visitor.

She blinked, unwilling to believe what she was seeing. Qrow stood on the far side of her bed, watching her with somber eyes. He glanced at the table and scattered materials, taking in the mess before he returned to her. All the fear, panic and anxiety she felt about this meeting came to the fore. She'd thought about this situation, all the different things she wanted to say, but no ideas were forthcoming.

Qrow's eyes and tone were soft as he spoke, "Did you have a bad dream?"

Summer, suddenly void of the hurricane of emotions, simply felt tired. "...Aren't they always these days?"

"Maybe... but I don't think all of them are that bad." Qrow circled the bed and stood before Summer, smiling gently.

The Huntsman reached out to tentatively cradle her cheek, almost scared that she'd break into a thousand pieces if he pushed too far. His hands had a few more scars and callouses than she remembered, but she leaned into the warm palm. Summer mimicked the gesture, guiding him down so they were touching foreheads. She could feel the sting of tears in the corners of her closed eyes. His eyes also closed and they stood there in silence, drinking each other's presence in. Allowing themselves to fully appreciate that this was reality. That after years of separation, they were here and together once more.

"I missed you so much." Summer's voice was strained, tears running tracks down her cheeks.

"I missed you too." Qrow parted from her, brushing a feather light kiss to her lips before embracing her fully. Far too soon, they broke the embrace but still remained loosely in each other's arms. "Summer, we have a lot to talk about."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much changed. Updated cause Maiden magic is magic.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Paladin here:** I have spoken to the original author. She's still reachable through fanfic.net given she closed her account here. And she's letting me use the same premise but deviate from the story she told as I see fit. So this is RATC remastered I suppose?
> 
> For the record, I too share Aurora's loathing for RT for much the same reasons. But I wish to write this remastered work because I knew how much effort and time Aurora313 put into the world building. And I want to see this completed.


End file.
